Trip Report
by Dave Fruchter
First of all, thanks to Goldie for organizing Atlarge and making it happen once
again. What once was "this thing of ours" has now metastasized to "this thing
of everyone's". The amount of grief he must have to put up with has got to be
close to overwhelming. I truly believe that when he's had enough of it Atlarge
will be no more. I usually organize a 10-20 person dinner at the various ARG
events I attend and then just before each soiree I swear I'll never take on the
responsibility again. I have nothing but respect for Goldie and the work he
does. If everyone in the world acted like Goldie, then maybe his goofy
left-wing/socialist utopian vision might have a chance. Good work Comrade.
The Great Pinball Heist
Thursday evening and the first pre-atlarge event is a pinball competition at
the Scheinberg Compound. Kim Scheinberg, editor, writer,
Tom Petty look-alike
and arcade game enthusiast graciously opened her estate to the great unwashed
of ARG.
About 10 of us made our way through the metal detector and past the pat down to
her basement playroom(s). The main room is dedicated to classic pinball
machines and three of the walls are lined with, I believe, 10 games in mint
condition. I didn't investigate the rest of the basement, but I thought I
heard chains rattling and some muffled screams off in the distance.
We all took some time sampling the machines. But just before the competition
we were invited back upstairs to check out the new in-home theater. Three
levels of lounge chair and sofa stadium seating. Massive screen, surround
sound and HD projector. Not too shabby. Kim's husband is the proud papa of
this project and he was eager to show us what this baby could do. We decided
that the first 15 minutes of Saving Private Ryan would be a suitable vehicle
for a test drive. Very Nice. I'm still trying to clean the brains off my
shirt.
Back to the pinball. Some idiot (with brains still dripping off his shirt)
suggested we make the competition "interesting". We all kicked in $20 and it
was decided (by Kim) that the tournament would be decided by total points
scored on four machines (also selected by Kim). One small problem with this
system was that on three of the four machines the typical score was in the
millions while on the fourth machine the typical score was in the billions
making the competition essentially the high score on that one machine. We
divided into four groups of three and started to play. About an hour later
three of the groups had finished playing all their games on three of the
machines for a total of nine games played. At this same time, Kim was just
finishing up on the third ball of her first game (the high scoring one) and had
amassed about 60 BILLION points. The machine is literally flashing messages
like "Total Devastation". Since we had to leave her home at about this time in
order to make it to the "smoker" and she had the rest of the field covered, she
won the cash by default.
DADDY, I HAVE CIDER IN MY EAR!!!!
Leave the "action" to Bob
The smoker over, about ten of us head back to the Taj to gamb00l it up. We
decide that our fortune will be made at craps and look for a table. All of two
tables are in operation and they are pretty crowded. We slide over to an
unopened table and call the pit boss over. We reach in our pockets and
collectively pull out thousands of dollars. Waving the bills for emphasis we
politely ask the gentleman to open the table for us. Evidently The Donald has
no need of surplus gamb00lers and we are denied. We all toast The Donald with
bile.
Our quest for riches is temporarily stymied until one of our party is struck by
the epiphany that there are, in fact, other casinos in Atlantic City. One of
which is conveniently connected to the Taj by a sheltered walkway. We head to
the Showboat.
The Showboat has all of one crap table in operation but luckily (for them) it
is completely empty when we arrive. About 3½ minutes later all of us has
had a chance to shoot the dice at least twice. Our quest for riches now
permanently obliterated we shift our quest to one of drunken mayhem and head to
the Showboat poker room.
The poker room has three or four tables of 1-2 no limit and 2-4 holdem going
with a couple of open seats at each table. Tim McGarvey and I scoop up the no
limit seats and a few others fill in the 2-4 seats. A few rotations in and I'm
bored to tears. I turn to see what's going on at the limit game and notice
that the entire 2-4 game has been emptied of locals and is now entirely
populated by Argers. There is an open seat and I pick up my chips and fill it.
I ask what happened and am told (surprise surprise) that Action Bob and
Buckshot along with their protégé Kevin "Golfman" Conlin have blind
capped the locals off the table muttering to themselves. Tanya the "Queen
(Harpy?) of RGP" is busy ordering round after round of kamikazes for the table.
Piled on top of my "smoker" imbibings I soon achieve a state of incoherence
and cognitive impairment while trying to avoid incontinence (that would be
pissing myself for the vocabulary challenged).
The madness continues for a while with the primary beneficiaries being the
dealers who are tipped massive amounts for everything from the successful
completion of a flop to bonus tokes for player cursing. A local returns to the
table and I decide to get into the flow by having an "Action Bob Moment". I
look at the dealer, point to the local and say, "If he wins this hand I will
toke you whatever the size of the pot is." I figure this is a pretty empty
promise since the local is going have stand up to the blizzard of bets that my
pledge will guarantee, and even if he does he actually has to find a way to win
the hand.
The Local's 8-4 makes two pair and I peel off two hundred dollar bills and hand
them to the dealer.
Action Bob should be required to wear a T-shirt when he plays poker that reads:
"Stunts performed by professionals. Do not attempt to duplicate"
